


#SpiderGate

by albatross1013



Category: Outlander (TV) RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:46:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26418937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/albatross1013/pseuds/albatross1013
Summary: Back on 3 Nov 2013, Sam was summoned in the middle of the night to come assist Cait with a spider. It gave @an-gaol-seo-ol an idea and she shared it with me and I ran with it. There be plenty of high jinks, shenanigans and smut here. This is the result of late night writing and is completely un-beta'd. All errors are mine. If you see one, please let me know and I will correct it.If you don't like spiders, turn back now.
Relationships: Caitriona Balfe/Sam Heughan
Comments: 30
Kudos: 90





	#SpiderGate

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: This is fiction. I own not. I earn not. I merely play. If you didn't notice, this is Real Person Fiction inspired by a true event, but much like every movie with the same claim, only about .01% is actually factual. In this case, Sam, Cait and a spider. The rest is the result of my overactive and warped imagination. 
> 
> This also contains shippery content between Sam Heughan and Caitriona Balfe. If this upsets you on an emotional level and has the ability to ruin your day, I suggest you drive right on by and enjoy your day.

Slender thighs sliding around his hips, delicate ankles skimming along the back of his thighs. His name riding a breathy moan across his ear. His abs ripple as his pelvis rocks up. His teeth clench and his lungs heave. He is so close. The hand around his straining cock slides and twists across the swollen head to bring the rush of his climax. Just a few more strokes...

The jarring notes of Denis Denis scream at him from the bedside table, effective as an ice bath in shutting his fantasy and impending orgasm down. Fumbling for his mobile phone, Sam curses his luck.

"Cait? It's like, 2 o'clock..." He is cut off by the sound of heavy breathing coming through the line. "Cait. Are you okay??" Swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, he gropes along the floor for his track pants. He has a t-shirt pulled on and is across the room before she finally answers.

"Please come help me." She is whispering, sounding panicked. 

Sam breaks into a trot and snatches up his keys on his way out. "I'm on my way, babe. Where are you?" 

"At my place." She is still whispering. When she lets out a small shriek, he flings himself down the stairs of his apartment building and nearly rips the door from its hinges as he barrels onto the sidewalk. "Cait!! What the hell is going on??" 

When the line goes dead, he is beside himself. Thanking God and little green men that traffic is basically non-existent, he tears across town to Cait's flat. Stop signs are a mere suggestion and he doesn't bother waiting for the red light to change when he can see the road is clear. By the time he reaches her home, Sam is in a full-body sweat and his hands are shaking so hard he struggles to shut the car off.

Reaching her door, he finds it unlocked and barges inside without bothering to knock, "CAIT!!" He roars, taking long strides through the house. Hands clenched at his side, his blood is up and he belatedly realizes he is unarmed except for his fists. Flexing his fingers, he decides they will have to be enough.

"CAIT!" He yells again, then pauses to listen when he hears her call his name. It seems to be coming from upstairs. Taking the steps two and three at a time, he pushes doors open until he finds her in her bedroom. Dressed in nothing except a long t-shirt, her arms are curled around her drawn up legs and her face is buried in her knees. Seeing her whole and unharmed turns his knees to pudding and he sags against the wall by the door. "Jesus Cait, what the fuck is going on?" He demands, not even a little sorry for his tone. She had just scared ten years from his life. 

Her trembling hand reaches forward and points to an upended glass sitting on the carpet between the bed and the bathroom door. "There." She says. As if that explains any-fucking-thing. 

Sam scoffs, more than a little irritated now. "What? You spilled your wine? For the love of God, you scared the goddamned devil out of me woman." He stalks to the glass, snatching it from the floor with a swipe of his long arm only to let out a shrill scream, fling the glass back to the floor and launch himself backwards to land in a heap. "FUCKING HELL!" With his heart lodged in his throat, he can't be even a little ashamed of the decidedly girly sound that came from his lips. 

"THE GLASS! GET THE GLASS!" Cait shrieks, scrambling across the bed to grab said glass and slam it back down on its spot on the carpet. Mission accomplished, she flops over the edge of the bed, her head and arm hanging toward the floor as she gasps for air. 

Sam crab crawls across the floor to the bed, giving the glass and its contents a wide berth until he collapses at her side across the duvet. "Holy shit," he breathes. His heart is galloping away, leaving him in the proverbial dust. "Now what?"

"Now you take that son of a bitch out of my house and send it back to whichever circle of hell it crawled out from." 

Well then. 

"You called me in the middle of the night, interrupting a perfectly good wank session, I might add, so I can dispose of a fucking spider?" Sam sits up as Cait rolls to her side, propping her head on her hand as they stare at each other.

"Yes. Yes, I did." When her chin quivers ever so slightly and her lower lip pops out, Sam knows he is a goner. 

"For crying out loud... oh, all right." Mustering up all of his remaining manliness, most of which has been forfeited, Sam walks to the toilet and comes back with a wad of tissue. 

"What do you think you are going to do with that?" She demands as she sits up, pointing to the weapon in his hand.

"I'm going to grab and flush it."

"You have to set it free outside." Nodding, she exits the room, suddenly without any trace of fear as she steps right over the glass.  
  
Blinking after her, Sam briefly wonders if he is being punked. What the devil is going on here? Plopping down on the edge of the bed, he eyes the overturned glass with disdain, just barely suppressing a head-to-toe shudder. Gahhh... he hates spiders. The culmination of a blend of endorphins, testosterone, adrenaline and hair-raising terror has made him slightly queasy. What a fucking night! 

Cait breezes back in the room as though she hadn't a care in the world, thrusting a paper towel into his hands. 

"Just what do you expect me to do with this?" He lifts the offending piece by his fingertips, eyebrows climbing for his hairline. 

With a smirk, she flips her hand toward the Creature of Doom, "You get it to walk on the paper towel, trap it in the cup and then release it outside." She saunters over and sits beside him, looking as casual as if she were ordering a glass of water.  
  
Sam stares at her for a long, silent moment. "Just get it to walk on the paper," he mocks. "Oh yes! Piece of cake!" Approaching the area he has come to view as a minefield, Sam crouches down beside the cup with its angry little occupant. Stretching out his hand, he demands, "Give me your mobile. I need to find a tutorial on this. Check YouTube."

"You need to watch a video?!" Cait chortles, handing her cell over. 

"Yes! I need to watching a fucking video! I get one shot, ONE SHOT, at this Caitriona." He stands and levels her with a glare. "Do you want me to do this or not?" 

Raising her hands in mock surrender, Cait mimes zipping her lips before clasping her hands innocently in her lap. Muttering under his breath about the utter ridiculousness of the situation he has found himself in, Sam reviews a few helpful instructional videos on trapping a deadly 8-legged Creature of Doom with naught but a cheap tumbler and a fucking paper towel. 

Feeling a touch more confident in this endeavor, Sam takes several deep breaths, hands poised and at the ready. He half-squats, ready to dive out of harm's way if necessary, and with some deft sleight-of-hand worthy of David Copperfield, has the spider secured in the cup. Steadfastly refusing to think about how his hand (and a fucking paper towel) is the only thing trapping said Creature of Doom, Sam sprints out of the room, down the stairs and through the backdoor. With a mighty war-cry that sounds eerily akin to a little girl, he flings the whole kit-n-caboodle into the yard and slams the door. Goosebumps crawl over him in a severe case of the heebie-jeebies and he shudders, complete with hand flaps and noise effects. "Fucking hell!"

That done, he turns and marches back up the steps to tell Cait the mission was a success and demand his reward in the form of a stiff drink. Hell, the whole bottle for that matter. Rounding the corner into her room, he stops so quickly he nearly topples over. The air squeezes out of his lungs and his vision blurs around the edges, his focus sharpening on the vision stretched out before him.  
  
Cait is leaning back, propped up on her elbows, the t-shirt she wore pulled up to just above her hips. Her bare hips. One leg is bent, just enough to shield her center from his sight. It is obvious as hell that she is wearing absolutely nothing under that shirt and he lets out a harsh gasp as air rushes back into him. "Cait," he breathes, "what are you doing?"

Cocking her head to the side, she whispers, low and sultry. "Come here, Sam." With a shift of her hips and a bend of her long legs, Sam catches a glimpse of what is lying at the apex of her thighs. He is instantly hard as stone and nearly doubles over at the tightening in his gut. Of their own accord, his feet propel him across the room to stand at the edge of the bed, looking down at the vision of perfection before him. His eyes drink her in. From the graceful arch of her feet and ankles, up her silken legs to the gentle curve of her hips and across the cotton shirt that drapes over her perfect breasts. Her head tilts back so her eyes meet his and for a split second, he is afraid she is just taking the piss out of him. Sam finds no mirth in her deep blue gaze, however. Only want. Need. A desire that matches his own. 

His chest feels tight, like a band of steel is squeezing him and he sucks in a deep breath. None of his greatest fantasies came close to just standing before her nearly naked body. Cait, not Claire. Wanting him: Sam. Not Jamie. How often had he imagined this very scenario late at night? Covered in sweat, hips thrusting up into his hand, her name on his lips as he blew his load all over his stomach. Wishing he was wrapped up in her, around her. 

Sam jumps when a warm hand grasps his wrist, pulling him down onto the bed. Down onto her. Braced on his hands and knees above her, he straddles her slim body, feeling bigger and more powerful than he ever has in his life. It is like his skin has become too snug and he wants to burst free of it. She is staring up at him with her mysterious blue eyes and he is drowning in them, falling into her until his lips are meeting hers and he is lost. 

Warm, soft and gentle kisses gradually turn into a desperate dueling of tongue and teeth as their hunger grows. Sam slides one hand under her shirt, his nimble fingers pinching and tugging at her nipples before curling around her side and pushing her shirt up. Breaking free from the kiss, he ducks down and this time it is his lips and teeth that are paying homage to her breasts. Like a man starved, he suckles and licks first one then the other until she is writhing beneath him with her hands twisting in his shaggy curls. When her legs wrap around his hips, pulling him flush against her and rocking up into him, Sam pulls back with a desperate gasp.

"Cait. Cait, look at me." Her eyes are clenched shut, her head thrown back and she is whimpering, trying to maintain contact. "Caitriona." 

When her eyes finally meet his again, they are glazed over, burning with desperation and lust. "Sam. Please." 

His trembling hand cups her jaw, stroking across her cheekbone. "I need to know. Do you mean this? Truly?" His heart is beating a war drum against his ribs and he knows that if she just wants a one-night stand, he will stand up and walk out of here, even if his balls drop off in protest. He is an all-in kind of guy and Caitriona Balfe took ownership of him, heart and soul the very first day they worked together. Oh, his body wanted her from the moment they shared their chemistry test, but after spending a full day with her, his heart fairly leapt from his chest and delivered itself into her hands.  
  
"Yes. I mean it. I've wanted you from the beginning." With that said, she grasps him by the back of the neck and drags him back down to her, kissing him breathless. Groaning into her mouth, Sam sets to work shimmying out of his track pants, toeing off his shoes and kicking everything to the floor. Rearing up on his knees between her spread legs, he stares down at her and runs his hands up the inside of her thighs until they meet in the middle. Brushing the pads of his thumbs along her folds, he teases along the outer edges while she squirms, raising her hips to meet his touch. 

"God, you set me on fire. Do you touch yourself when you think of me? Did you know I was just about to shoot my cum all over myself when you called? I was thinking of you, you know. Fucking my fist and imagining your legs wrapped around me, your cunt squeezing my cock until I blew my load inside you. You turn me inside out, babe and I want to be in you more than I've ever wanted anything." 

His thumbs had worked their way inside her, alternating between grazing her clit and dipping inside her cunt, soaked in the juices that flowed from her. "God, you are so wet for me." Pulling one hand free, he brings it to her mouth and he groans deep in his chest when she sucks his thumb into her mouth without hesitation. "That's right. Taste yourself." Greedily, she pulls his thumb deep into her mouth, suckling it down until it nearly gags her. Her tongue is wrapping around it, the warm velvet heat of it driving him wild. He can feel his cock bobbing and straining, leaving a smear against his stomach, begging for attention. 

Pulling his hand free of her mouth, he shifts until he is stretched out above her, their bodies pressed together and he revels in the warm heat of her against him. Her hips cradle his as if they had been forged from the same mold and separated upon creation. There are no cameras, no crew, no pretending and no hiding behind Jamie and Claire. This is real and he has never been so desperate in this life. 

"Are you sure?" he gasps, giving her one last chance to turn back. By now his cock has nestled its way to the wet heat of her cunt, drawn there like a moth to flame and begging to be burned. Their hips rock into each other, leaving them both gasping at the sensation of his warm cock-head pressing over her clit. He is so close, just a tilt of his pelvis will have him seated inside of her but he can't stop the rhythm of their thrusting. She is writhing beneath him, arching her back and straining against his erection like she can't get enough. "That's it baby, ride me. Use me." 

With a kick and a shove, she rolls them over and Sam finds himself on his back, watching his Irish goddess rise above him, her skin glowing in the moonlight. She arches back, her hands braced on his thighs, her legs spread open. Sam looks down to see her riding the underside of his cock, the head appearing between her puffy lips as she grinds her clit against him. "Oh fuck, babe. Do you see this?" His big hands on her thighs spread her wide and he can't tear his eyes away from the sight before him or keep from canting his hips up, thrusting up to meet her. When he feels her legs begin to tremble, her cunt swell and pulse around him, he grasps her around the waist and bucks up to meet her as she comes apart above him. 

She falls forward, collapsing on his chest and he gathers her close, clenching his jaw to keep from completely losing control. Her juices are drenching his cock as she continues to shudder and pulse against him. His hands are still spanning her waist, rocking her gently against him, keeping the fire smoldering until she is ready for more. 

Sam is lost in the world they have created, his body taking up the unconscious cadence of pleasure they are immersed in. Cait begins to squirm on his chest and he loosens his grip on her, letting her go even though he would rather die. When he feels her fingers wrap around his erection, he surges up and grasps her wrist in his hand. "Don't. I can't hold it much longer." He growls.

A smirk forms on her lips, those lips he loves to kiss, and she lifts herself over his hips, grazing the tip against her entrance. "Then don't." She breathes as she sinks down, taking him to the base. 

Wrapping his arms around her back, Sam flips them over and begins driving into her with animalistic fervor. His face buried in her shoulder, he sinks his teeth into the juncture of her neck and fucks her for all he is worth. He can't hold out though, the whole night has kept his blood boiling near the surface and it is more than he can take. Slamming into her once, twice more, he grinds against her, and with a strangled groan, empties his entire being into her welcoming body. It is his turn to be left trembling and weak as he collapses in her arms. He has just enough strength to shift to the side and wrap his arms around her. Grazing his lips across her neck, he murmurs, "God, what you do to me. I'll never get enough."

Soft touches and gentle kisses soothe them both until they are calm again. It is Cait who breaks the silence with a muffled giggle.

"What are you laughing about?" He asks, his voice rough.

Turning her face into his chest, she shakes her head. "I can't. You'll kill me." 

Snorting out a guffaw of disbelief, he looks at her. "I haven't got the strength to do anything right now. Just tell me."

Calming herself enough to speak, Cait peeks up through her lashes at him. "Well, I guess now would be a good time to tell you... I'm not really afraid of spiders. At all."

Flopping his head back, Sam starts to chuckle himself. "Yeah. I figured as much when you made me take it outside." He pokes her in the ribs with a finger and wriggles it, making her squirm. "Would this be a good time to admit that I am deathly afraid of them?" 

She sits up and gapes at him. "Truly? Like, for real?"

Feeling himself flush red, Sam shrugs, trying to play it cool. "Since I was a kid. Have you ever woken up to find a spider the size of a dinner plate on your chest? I screamed the house down. Mum thought I was being murdered. So did I." 

Scooting closer, Cait lies down beside him, wrapping her arm across his chest. "I feel terrible now! I can't believe you did that for me."

Smiling up at the ceiling, Sam chuckles, "Yeah, well. You'll have to go find your tumbler tomorrow. I pitched the whole mess outside." Giving her a small squeeze, he grins down at her. "Was worth it though." 


End file.
